


The First Step is a Wedding

by strawnilla



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Romance, its a romcom thats it thats all there is to it, kiwi is a hot single dad and lemon is a cool college student HEYAAA, mentions of vampsoda too, there is a child in here, what the heck do i do with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawnilla/pseuds/strawnilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been talking, casual words and jests and finding out they’re both friends with Soda (albeit Kiwi is the <i>best</i> friend, mind the difference), when the bouquet of flowers—lilies, he thinks—came flying their direction at an alarming speed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Step is a Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> the longest cookie run fic ive written so far i cannot believe ive done this i cant believe ive reached this level of cookieness
> 
> check out my writing blog on tumblr [here!!](http://strawnilla.co.vu/)

They met at a wedding.

It was as simple as that. They were strangers to each other, but they both knew the same groom who stood at the altar. It didn’t surprise either of them. Soda is friendly and sociable, after all, why wouldn’t he have friends that are too many to count? Kiwi’s glad the person he married, Vampire, isn’t much on the socializing scene himself. If he was, with the two of them combined, they would’ve had to have their wedding in a palace, or something.

Well, the guest list didn’t matter to him. What mattered was the person he caught the bouquet with.

They had been talking, casual words and jests and finding out they’re both friends with Soda (albeit Kiwi is the  _best_  friend, mind the difference), when the bouquet of flowers—lilies, he thinks—came flying their direction at an alarming speed. Then their fingers and hands were both wrapped around the stalks to save it.

Cheers and whistles erupted around the crowd, from people Kiwi knew and didn’t know. He saw Soda grinning in his direction. Kiwi promptly blushed before shoving the bouquet into the tall, blond, hot, crazy good-looking dude people call Lemon’s hands and slinked away from the site for a breather.

He wishes he could say it ended there. But no, by the end of the ceremony, they found each other again  _by pure coincidence, he swears,_  and they exchanged phone numbers. Kiwi swore up and down he wasn’t going to give the other a call or a text or  _anything_.

The next morning, he got a text from Lemon.

 **From:**   _not-hot blondie_  
**Subject:**   _g’morning_  
_hey. wanna hang out later?_

He stared at his phone at first, eyes blinking like a confused owl. The spatula in his hand nearly went slack. He was partly surprised that Lemon made the first move, but he was mostly contemplating throwing his phone into the hot simmering pan of butter, not before dipping said phone into the pancake batter though. What the fuck?

What the fuck was he going to do?!

A small hand curled around his pajama pants and tugged. He looked down to see Kiwi Bird Jr. staring up at him with worried black eyes. “Mama? Are you okay? When are you going to make the pancakes?”

 _Crap_ , did he look shaken up? He tried on a nervous smile. “Nothing’s wrong, fledgling.” He pat his child’s head after setting down his phone beside the bowl of batter, the screen with the text message still blatantly glaring at him. “You all set to go to school?”

Junior nodded their head. “But you’re still not.”

Kiwi laughed. “I thought we established that I can do things  _fast._ ”

 **To:**   _not-hot blondie_  
**Subect:**   _Re: g’morning_  
_Fine. Lunch together sound good?_

* * *

 

Kiwi Biker,  _unfortunately_  despite his name, did not own a bike of his own. He had to get a car instead of one of those big bikes he dreamt of owning since he was a child, and couldn’t afford any other vehicle with his job after purchasing said car. So when he was sitting there in the patio of an Italian restaurant that both he and Lemon knew, he heard it before he saw it.

The roar of the engine, its sound so beautiful and unnerving, made Kiwi’s heart stutter. He looked up faster than he could blink. When he saw the ethereal, sleek, shiny matte black Ducati 848 EVO round the corner and down the street, he had to grip the armrests of his seat just to stop himself from jumping up and into the pathway of the superbike.

Kiwi bit his lip as the superbike slowed down. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it and he noticed his breathing was slowly becoming irregular, just from the sight of the superbike up close. Fuck. If he wasn’t so sure that he was gay, he would be calling himself bikesexual. That superbike was such a beauty, Kiwi wanted to weep.

The bike parked right in front of the restaurant, just a few steps away from where Kiwi sat.

Shit.

The biker, clad in a leather jacket and jeans, took off his helmet and ran his hand through his blond hair.

_Fuck._

Kiwi’s jaw practically dropped.

Holy Fucking  _Shit_  It’s  _Lemon_.

Lemon scanned the patio, and when his eyes landed on Kiwi, his lips curled slightly upwards into a smirk that almost made Kiwi whine.

Hot dude with a hot bike and  _holy fuck how was Kiwi still alive?_

When Lemon started making way towards him, Kiwi was holding his iced lemon tea tightly in his hands like a lifeline. Shit, shit,  _shit_. What was he going to do now? Before this he didn’t really think much about Lemon other than that he was a really good-looking guy. But now, not only was he good-looking, but he had a good-looking superbike to go with it.  _Hot damn._

As Lemon sat in the seat across him, before any greetings could come out of Lemon’s mouth, Kiwi blurted out, “I  _cannot_  believe you have a hot superbike.”

He wanted to kick himself right then and there.

Lemon’s smirk seemed to get wider, though. He did not at all seem surprised at Kiwi’s sparkly eyes and breathless condition. Lemon said, “Thanks. We could go on a ride after lunch if you want to?”

 _Ho_ ly _. Shit._

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes,  _yes._ ”

That was how Kiwi got himself smitten with a younger, taller, and blond  _biker._

He fucking swore Soda planned it all out.

Things progressed from then on. They weren’t dating, per say. They were… friends, he supposed. They texted a lot, talked for hours on call, and often hung out together when they could (translation: Lemon taking Kiwi for a spin around the city on his superbike).

Sure, he found Lemon unbelievably attractive, and the fact that the blond was a biker didn’t help, but Kiwi wasn’t some lovesick idiot who’d jump into another’s pants just for those two reasons alone. He had more dignity than that, and he also had a very high price on himself anyway. Two for the price of one would sound great in the supermarket, but not in a relationship.

And, could he really be to blame when he really did begin crushing on Lemon?

Like, really, he saw it coming. He couldn’t control his own emotions, nobody could do that. He just wished they’d come later, or better  _never_ , but he took it as it came. Didn’t mean he’d act on it though, no. Crushes go away eventually or turn into the family kind of love, right?

He should’ve known that wouldn’t happen to him.

One day he had confided in Soda about this matter, and actually asked him whether or not he planned this all out.

Soda sounded appalled.  _“What do you **mean**  you’re not dating him?!”_

Kiwi yelled curses back into his phone.

 _“Alright, alright!”_  Soda laughed heartily, clearly enjoying his best friend’s dilemma.  _“I’m sorry!”_

“You don’t sound sorry!”

Soda was still laughing. He was laughing so hard Kiwi heard a loud  _thud!_  come from the other line and he knew for a fact Soda laughed hard enough that he fell off whatever he was sitting on. He heard Soda groan in pain and felt himself smirk in satisfaction.

“Serves you right.”

_“God, you’re such a meanie…”_

Kiwi would have stuck his tongue out at Soda, if he was actually physically there with him. Or maybe if they were texting, that could have worked too. So he simply hummed. “You still love me.”

_“No, I love Vamp.”_

That was the cue for Kiwi to make gagging sounds. “I still can’t believe you married him—”

“You’re just jealous.”

Kiwi huffed. “Totally am not.” But then he slowly smiled. “I  _am_  happy for you though. He treats you right.”

Soda chuckled from the other end. Kiwi could hear the slight embarrassment in his voice.  _“Yeah… My love life aside, why are you still not dating Lemon?”_

The green-haired man groaned into his hand. “Because I will  _not_ date him.”

_“Why not?! He’s hot, he’s a biker, he’s—”_

“Soda. Please, shut up before I go to your house right now and strangle you.”

_“Yeah, I’d love to see you on a plane to France.”_

“…What?”

_“France. Paris. We’re visiting Vamp’s sister?”_

Kiwi yelled curses into his phone again, but far, far louder this time.

“MY BILLS HOLY DAMN WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WENT TO FRANCE I’VE BEEN TALKING TO YOU FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG FUCKING— _STOP LAUGHING SODA!_ ”

His feelings got worse around the time Lemon’s finals came around.

They didn’t meet often anymore, Lemon was too busy studying. But Kiwi still texted him to check on him and made sure he was still alive. Every time, he’d ask Lemon what he ate and Lemon would almost always answer pizza. Sometimes it was Chinese take-out. Sometimes it was McDonalds. But most of the time, it was pizza. Or microwave food.

His eating habits pissed Kiwi off so much, that one afternoon he simply got a bag of groceries, drove all the way to Lemon’s apartment, and knocked on his door like a madman on a mission.

The door opened and the sight of the man behind it almost made Kiwi feel guilty. Lemon looked absolutely tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and he even yawned before he got a good look of his guest.

“Kiwi…? What’re you doing here?”

God, even his speech was slurred. Alright, whatever, he didn’t come all the way here for nothing. Kiwi ducked under Lemon’s arm that was resting against the doorframe, a rare occasion where he’s grateful for his short height, and tried to find the kitchenette in the messy apartment.

“I am making you real food and you cannot stop me.”

The reply came almost five seconds later. “What…?”

He heard the front door click shut just as he placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter. He turned to look at Lemon who slowly walked in, giving the shorter man curious looks with bleary eyes.

Kiwi waved him away. “Take a nap or something. I’ll wake you when I’m done.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” was what Lemon said instead.

He glared at the blond until he left.

It became their new routine, even after Lemon’s finals ended. Kiwi would drop by everyday to cook for the blond and slowly the fridge began to fill with groceries that Lemon couldn’t for the life of him name, if Kiwi asked. The only downside to this was the fact that every time, no matter what Kiwi made, Lemon always found something wrong with it like a good old whiner. He’d say it’s too salty, or too sweet, or too dry, and every time Kiwi would just snap back remarks at him, saying he could go back to the pizza boxes if he wanted to.

(But Lemon always finished his food. He always did.)

Then came the week where Kiwi got too much work at his job that he couldn’t drop by at all. The first few days, things seemed fine.

But then by the fourth day, Lemon showed that he was not fine.

 **From:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:**   _hungry  
i want food_

 **To:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:**   _Re: hungry  
Then call up McDonalds or something?_

 **From:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:**   _Re: Re: hungry  
not the kind of food I want_

 **To:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: hungry  
Pizza, then? Isn’t there anything in the freezer that you can microwave? And I’m sure you can make scrambled eggs?_

 **From:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: hungry  
god damn it kiwi im in dire need of your cooking please come over today_

 **From:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: hungry  
if you can?_

 **To:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hungry  
I thought you hated my cooking._

 **From:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hungry  
no, i am absolutely addicted to it and i am getting withdrawals from not having anything that was made by you for four days straight this has to be illegal i cant believe ive been holding out for this long. i miss your cooking_

 **To:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hungry  
You’re such a baby. Fine, I’ll come over for dinner._

 **From:**   _not-hot biker_  
**Subject:** _yes!!!  
youre amazing_

He was, in fact, not amazing.

Miss his cooking?  _Really?_  Was that all Lemon thought of him now? The guy with the job and mad cooking skills and the guy who cared about Lemon too much? Kiwi bit his lip, clutching his chest in an attempt to force his heart  _to stop beating so freaking hard._

He buried his face in his hands. The things he’d do for that stupid blond.

When he got to Lemon’s apartment with a bag of fresh groceries, because he couldn’t remember when was the last time he got groceries for the other anyway, he was greeted by an excited hot blond biker dude.

Not excited in a bright-grin, flailing-arms, sparkly-eyed kind of way. No, that wasn’t how Lemon rolled. (Haha, he was a funny guy,  _rolled._ ) But Kiwi knew Lemon well enough by now to tell how he showed his excitement. It was in the way the door opened faster than usual (five seconds, compared to the usual eight seconds. He counted. How couldn’t he?), it was in the way Lemon trailed right behind him all the way to the kitchenette, it was in the way the blond sat himself in a chair to watch him cook. Lemon’s face was as cool as ever, but his eagerness showed.

It made Kiwi’s heart do tap dances in his chest.

“So what do you want to eat?” he asked.

“Anything’s fine.” Lemon said.

Kiwi nodded, knowing that ‘anything is fine’ probably meant ‘one of my faves’. He took out the pan and placed it on the stove without turning it on, moving around the area like he owned it, familiar with every nook and cranny that held the equipment or ingredients he needed. He hadn’t talked to the blond in person in a while so he supposed small talk would do. He went over to the refrigerator and opened it.

“I talked to Soda the other day. He thought we were dating.”

Cue him freezing in the fridge. Shit.  _Shit._

Of all things, of  _all_  the rainbows, unicorns, and cotton candy in the world, he had to bring up  _that?!_

_Okay, play it cool. Play it cool, Kiwi Biker, you are a grown adult. You can handle this._

“Yeah?” Lemon replied. He took that as a good sign. (But the indifference made his chest twitch a bit.)

Kiwi laughed forcefully as he closed the refrigerator, nothing in hand. Shit, what did he want to take? He couldn’t bloody remember.  _Shiiiiit._

“Yeah. Funny, right?”

Tomatoes. Right. He wanted tomatoes.

He quickly busied himself with the ingredients, not at all feeling like he just faced a dinosaur from Jurassic Park. If he focused hard enough, he could completely forget about the stupid collateral damage he had done, and also be able to completely ignore Lemon’s eyes that were on him  _oh my God why is he still staring at me I can feel his eyes on me don’t freak out don’t freak out—_

He picked up a spatula just as he heard the chair move.

Kiwi turned around and Lemon was walking towards him. He instinctively took a step back and gulped.

“Uh…?”

“You know,” Lemon started, getting closer and closer. Kiwi moved further and further, until he was betrayed by the wall that stopped him in place. Fuck. Fuck this small kitchenette.

“Y-Yeah…?” Kiwi stuttered. That’s it; this was where he was going to die. Lemon stopped right in front of him, the tips of their feet almost touching. The blond leaned down, his face inches away from Kiwi’s. The green-haired man gulped. He could smell the other’s zesty scent. He couldn’t look away from his electric yellow eyes either. He was a dead man. “L-Lemon…?”

“I wouldn’t mind if we really were dating.” Lemon said, and sealed his words with a kiss.

Kiwi felt like he exploded right then and there. But the good kind of explosion, the one with fireworks in your head, drums in your ears and colours in your eyes. He kissed back with fever and the spatula dropped. His arms wrapped around the other’s neck as Lemon’s hands circled around his waist. God, he was in the middle of cooking. And he had a child Lemon still had no idea about.

But for a moment, just for a moment, he wanted to do nothing else but to drown in this man.


End file.
